


hunted

by envysparkler



Series: Shifters [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shifters, Enemy to Caretaker, Gen, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Sexual Submission, Pack Dynamics, Tears, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Titans Tower au, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/envysparkler/pseuds/envysparkler
Summary: There’s a wolf stalking Tim through the halls.(“I know you’re there, Replacement, I can smell your fear.”)
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Shifters [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995952
Comments: 123
Kudos: 1116
Collections: Red Hood vs Red Robin





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted: some amount of self-control. Please. I will beg for it. This is getting ridiculous. I have work to be doing.
> 
> Edit: have added a chapter 2 because Tim needs some comfort and I've lost all sense of time and productivity.

Tim hid behind a column and brought up a fist to muffle his ragged breathing. He had several growing bruises, his chest ached in the way that usually signified cracked ribs, and he was trembling in both exhaustion and fear.

Tim knew a few things about the person hunting him through the Tower. One, they were extremely dangerous – they’d already knocked out every other team member in the building, disabled all their security, and jammed their signals to make it impossible to set off an alert. Two, they didn’t want the team dead. Or they didn’t want them _only_ dead, because each of his teammates had been taken out non-lethally. Three, they were a wolf shifter – Tim had _liked_ wolves, Jason had been a wolf, he thought they were majestic creatures right up until he met glowing green eyes in a shadowed stairwell and realized that, majestic or not, wolves were definitely apex predators.

Finally, Tim knew that whoever this was – red helmet, body armor, guns and knives, trained in lethal hand-to-hand – hated him _personally_. Every vicious insult, every sharp blow, every taunting chuckle as Tim ran and ran and ran and never got away.

“I know you’re there, Replacement,” the Red Hood chuckled, stepping inside the hall with booted footsteps kept deliberately loud, “I can smell your fear.”

Tim exhaled slowly and tightened his grip on his staff. He could do this. He was Robin. He could take on this villain and get away and call for backup.

Tim edged out from behind the pillar, and he could almost imagine the smirk on Hood’s face.

“You want to play some more hide-and-seek?” Hood drawled, the knives in his hands glinting, “Or are you finally going to face me and fight?”

“I’m not sure why we’re fighting,” Tim said, struggling to keep his voice level, “You haven’t explained what you came here for.”

Hood tilted his head to one side. “Revenge,” he said coldly, and lunged.

He was faster – Tim swung the staff, but the strikes either didn’t connect or landed squarely on body armor, the man not even flinching under the onslaught. The knife flashed in front of him and Tim nearly tripped as he jerked back to avoid it. A boot _crashed_ into his ribs and that was definitely ribs breaking –

Hood had gotten behind him, a chokehold – Tim scrabbled at his grip, gasping, trying to find purchase on the leather jacket before giving up and swinging the staff behind him. Hood cursed as the staff connected with his helmet, his grip loosening – Tim took a huge gulp of air and twisted, trying to fight free – Hood’s arms slipped further before he tightened his grasp, fingers clenching on the back of his neck –

_Surrender_.

Tim went limp, still struggling to draw a breath, and the staff slipped out of nerveless fingers.

The arms loosened slightly and Tim hung in the hold, not quite processing what was going on – pack, challenge, the fight was over and he’d lost, he needed to surrender, he had to –

“What the fuck?”

The arms shook him, hard, and then more violently and something jerked unpleasantly in his neck before he was dropped. He barely registered hitting the floor – all he know was that he _failed_ , someone was angry, his pack was angry, there was vicious rage and hurt and it was Tim’s fault, it was always Tim’s fault, he had to be better –

“Do not fucking test my patience right now, Replacement,” the voice seethed, furious, steps tracking closer – every part of Tim’s mind screamed _danger_ , screamed _threat_ , but when pack was angry you laid still and surrendered because the fight was over and Tim couldn’t move even if he’d wanted to –

A boot nudging his ribs. A boot _slamming_ into his ribs, and Tim choked on a cry as broken bones shifted, fire tearing through his chest. “Get up!” the voice snarled.

They were so angry – and it was Tim’s fault, like it always was, and manicured fingers tightened around his neck and waited for him to go limp before they walked out, because he was asking for too much, and Mother and Father needed to leave, and they couldn’t have him hanging on and causing trouble, and Tim could only sit still and silent and hope that it was enough, that next time he’d be better, that he’d show them how well he could behave –

“If you want to submit, Replacement,” the voice dropped into something close to a growl, “I’ll show you what it feels like.”

And then the voice shifted all the way into a growl and Tim’s blurry view of the ceiling was replaced by dark fur and glowing green eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Paws ground into his arms, into his knees, claws biting deep, pinning him down even though Tim could hardly even think of moving.

And then the mouth widened, baring every single teeth in what was definitely intended to be a cruel display, because Hood waited until Tim’s eyes widened with horror before he lunged.

Tim tried to scream. Tried to scramble away. Tried to push the wolf off of him, fight the lingering effects of surrender to twist away, to get away, to run – he dimly registered that his terror had spiked through his pack bond and he didn’t have the energy to close it, to cut it off because he couldn’t disturb the others – he flinched as he managed to twitch his fingers –

And then teeth closed around the junction of throat and shoulder and _surrender_ slammed back into him with the force of a speeding train.

Tim couldn’t scream – he could only choke out small, broken sobs and quiet, keening sounds of distress as the jaws closed down, as the pressure turned from uncomfortable to bruising to _painful_ , the curl of failure crashing in with the surrender – he’d upset pack, he was disobedient, he was being dragged down into submission and _it hurt so much_ –

There were a wolf’s jaws around his throat and Tim had never been more afraid in his life – he was utterly helpless, unable to move, unable to do _anything_ because Hood had somehow gotten the drop on him and pack was so _angry_ and Tim didn’t know what he did wrong and wetness was dripping down his cheeks as he made soft, broken, desperate sounds for help, for pack, for _someone_.

The teeth _tightened_ and Tim closed his eyes, his breath hitching, waiting for them to bite down, to break skin, to crush his collarbone and maul his throat open when he lay helpless on the ground –

The pressure vanished abruptly. The fog in his head did not – every instinct screaming to submit, to surrender, someone was angry and needed to be appeased and Tim had to stay still and silent because no one ever wanted anything else from him and all he knew was that he’d messed up _again_.

“Shit.” The voice was no longer mechanized. “ _Shit_. What am I doing?”

Tears dripped soundlessly down Tim’s face, landing with soft splatters on the floor. A face hovered into view – no helmet, a domino mask, dark hair and a twisted expression and a hint of familiarity, but Tim’s vision was too blurry to make out details. “Oh, fuck,” the voice whispered, distressed. It matched the curl of upset in Tim’s heart.

“Tim? Tim, can you hear me?” He knew Tim’s name. _How_ did he know Tim’s name? Failure twisted even harder and Tim let out another broken keen – he was hurt, he was alone, he was terrified and _he wanted pack_ , he needed to feel safe –

“Stop _doing that_ ,” the voice cracked, “You’re not – I’m not – no, no, fuck, please no –”

His neck ached, he couldn’t even check to see if it was bleeding, every muscle in his body was locked, forced to be utterly limp, to show that he wasn’t a threat, he wasn’t fighting, he’d learned his lesson, _please don’t leave me_ –

“ _No_ ,” the voice snarled, abruptly angry again, “No, they didn’t – _I’m not_ – they have no right –”

Tim trembled, tilting his head until his neck was completely exposed, open and vulnerable, because pack was angry and he had to submit, had to surrender, had to show that he was going to listen and behave and he didn’t know why they were angry but if he showed that he could be good then maybe they wouldn’t be so angry –

It hurt, it hurt _so much_ , and terror skittered through every vein in his body at the thought of the wolf coming back, of the _teeth_ coming back, _no_ –

“Stop,” the voice wavered, before it threaded with a line of authority that Tim was forced to obey, “ _Stop it_.”

Stop _what_? Tim let out a broken sob and kept his body open, unguarded, _not a threat_ , _not fighting_ – stop crying, maybe? He tried, squeezing his eyes shut and shuddering, his ears straining for any sign of movement, any indication that he was going to be attacked –

“No,” the voice cracked, and broke down completely, “No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to – _you_ weren’t supposed to – _fuck_ –”

_Please_ , Tim begged in his mind, _please just tell me what I did wrong, please just make it stop,_ please _–_

“Okay,” the voice said, hoarse, “Okay.” There were hands on his cheeks, pressing gently and Tim cracked his eyes open to see a face hovering over his. “ _Sleep_ ,” the voice commanded, and there was finally an order he could obey.

Tim shut his eyes.

Black fur – _Replacement_ – pack – anger, anger everywhere – Jason had been a wolf – the pieces were in his hands, and he didn’t want to put them together –

Tim drifted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I felt bad that I didn't give Tim a hug or give him a chance to shift.

“Jason’s the Red Hood,” Nightwing breathed out, and shock stuttered through the pack bond – Tim watched as Batman’s tracker headed for Nightwing’s location, and he squeezed the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He hadn’t wanted to consider it. Hadn’t even wanted to entertain the possibility, but he could feel the pack bond the same as the rest of them. Feel distress fade slowly as Batman’s tracker intersected with Nightwing’s, as Dick made a happy, choked sound, as Batman rerouted the Batmobile.

Okay. He could do this. Jason hadn’t even hurt him that badly – sure, he’d terrified the ever-living hell out of Tim, but Tim had walked away with just some broken ribs. He was fine. Jason – Jason was _alive_. That was great. That was _fantastic_.

The Batmobile roared into the Cave and Tim swallowed – he could do this, Dick and Bruce would be so happy to get Jason back, Jason was already pack, he was going to be _fine_ –

Dick stumbled out, and a large black wolf followed him.

There was a loud noise and Tim was six steps away by the time he realized that he’d sent the chair crashing to the ground. Everyone in the Cave had frozen at the sudden sound – Dick was staring at him, Bruce had paused while removing the cowl, and the _wolf_ –

Tim distinctly remembered the feel of those jaws closing around his throat.

“I’ll just –” he was backing away, but not fast enough, green eyes laser-focused on him, “Be upstairs – get out of your way – I’m sure you guys want some space –”

Tim didn’t turn his back to the Cave until he was halfway up the stairs, and he didn’t stop running until he slammed the clock shut behind him.

He sank to his knees, still shaking, and pressed his hands to his face.

He couldn’t do this.

* * *

Tim stared at himself in the mirror and psyched himself up. The wolf was – okay, Tim didn’t want to deal with the wolf. He still had a large, mottled bruise from where it had – where it –

He didn’t want to deal with the wolf. But he could deal with Jason. Jason was pack. Tim wasn’t going to challenge him for his place, and Tim didn’t really have a place of his own, so they could avoid each other with little trouble.

Jason was – was _Robin_. Oh. He was going to want it back. Tim trembled at the thought of challenging him for it – he could have it back. Tim wasn’t going to stand in his way. Wasn’t going to get anywhere _near_ his way, actually. It would be fine.

Or, if it wasn’t, he could go hide out at his parents’ house. They weren’t going to come back any time soon, and they hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t part of their pack anymore.

He could do this. As long as he didn’t challenge Jason, he would be fine. As long as he stayed out of his way.

Tim cracked open his bedroom door before slowly peering out into the empty hallway. He checked around every corner before turning. One good thing about Jason’s shifter form was that it was big enough to be noticeable, unlike Dick who sometimes swooped in the shadows in the ceiling before popping up behind Tim, or _Bruce_ , who was practically undetectable. There was nowhere a three-foot-high wolf was going to be able to hide.

Tim tried not to think about the wolf, and inched towards the kitchen. He peered in slowly – Bruce was reading the newspaper, Dick was putting an ungodly amount of syrup on his waffles, Alfred was smiling softly as he plated another couple of waffles. No Jason in sight. Perfect.

Tim took one step past the threshold before he registered the giant form sprawled on the ground.

Tim stared at the wolf. The wolf cracked open one vivid green eye, and stared back. Something was constricting in Tim’s chest.

“Tim?” Dick called out softly, and it broke the spell.

“Just remembered I forgot something,” Tim blurted out, words tripping over one another, and didn’t even attempt to hide that he was fleeing. He got all the way back to his room before he was convinced that the wolf wasn’t following him.

* * *

“Tim?” Bruce tapped lightly on the door and Tim cracked it open an inch, checked the ground to make sure there was no hint of black fur, and opened the door fully.

“Bruce,” Tim attempted to dredge up a smile. He had a feeling it wasn’t quite working. He’d spent all morning in his room, too afraid to step out in the corridor, and not nearly desperate enough to use the window. “What’s up?”

Too flippant. Tim winced. Both of them knew what this conversation was about.

“I wanted to talk to you about Jason,” Bruce said quietly, sinking down on Tim’s bed while Tim took a seat at his desk. “I know he attacked you and I understand –”

“I’m fine,” Tim cut him off hastily, before Bruce could say something stupid, “Really. It was just a couple of broken ribs. I’ve gotten worse falling off a fire escape while trying to take pictures.” He tried to keep the smile, keep his face open, keep the fear off of it.

Bruce stared at him. Tim remembered waking up in the infirmary in the Tower to a frantic Nightwing and Batman, both of whom had rushed over as soon as they’d felt Tim’s distress – he remembered the aching feeling of doing something horribly wrong, the vivid marks along his throat, the way he answered every question a little too fast and a little too desperately.

“I’m fine,” Tim repeated, trying not to think of the way he’d broken down in the shower and sobbed where no one could hear him, “I understand why he was upset.”

“Tim,” Bruce said gently, “He hurt you, and I want to make sure you’re okay. There’s no reason for you to have to feel afraid in your own home. I can take him to the penthouse, or –”

“No,” Tim almost shouted, “ _No_. You don’t need to take him anywhere, and I’m not afraid.” Jason was there first – Tim didn’t want to be sent away for being an inconvenience, he knew he was supposed to be still and silent and the _good child_ , or they would leave and never come back.

And even if they didn’t, even if Bruce was sincere, even if he’d take Jason away and make sure Tim never had to see him again – it would give Jason another reason to hate him. Tim was fully aware that Jason could take him in a fight and he didn’t want –

_“If you want to submit, Replacement, I’ll show you what it feels like.”_

No – never again – Tim wasn’t going to put himself in a place where Jason could seek to challenge him, because they’d be right back where they started and Tim would have another set of bruises to accompany the ones he already had.

“Tim,” Bruce said, narrowing his eyes – oh, he wasn’t going to let this go, was he – and Tim tried frantically to think of a reason to convince him.

“I’m just – I can’t believe he’s alive,” Tim said quietly, widening his eyes and hoping it came off as wonder and not as fear, “I’m trying to get used to it. I mean – he was _Robin_.” Was probably going to be Robin again, too. “I just – I don’t know what to even – he’s –”

Bruce’s expression softened. “We’re all trying to get used to it,” he said, his voice quiet and awed, “I never thought I’d get the chance – well, I’m glad he’s back with us.”

Tim kept the smile on his face, and ignored how much it hurt.

“Tim,” Bruce said, pulling Tim into a half-hug, “Come and talk to me if you change your mind or if anything happens – I’ll come up with a solution that works for all of us, okay?”

“Okay,” Tim said, pressing against Bruce for a single second of warmth before drawing back, “But it’s fine. He’s pack. And pack belongs at home.”

Bruce smiled, the way he always did when Tim called the Manor home, and Tim let the happiness buoy him as he buried the terror far below.

* * *

One week, and Tim was slightly concerned he’d made a miscalculation somewhere, because he nearly had a heart attack every time he walked into a room and saw a big black wolf. He hadn’t seen Jason in human form _once_ , and he was seriously starting to get concerned that the wolf was deliberately stalking him. He couldn’t survive this war on his nerves – he’d have to go to Bruce and tell him it was too much and then everything would collapse –

“Is he _always_ a wolf?” Tim whispered to Dick as the black wolf slinked to the far side of the Cave. So much for the training Tim had wanted to get in before patrol.

Dick raised his head, his expression conflicted as he chewed on his lip. “Jason has always been more comfortable in his wolf form,” Dick admitted quietly as they watched the large wolf pad into the shadows, “When Bruce found him as a kid, he was a wolf for nearly a month straight before he shifted back.”

“Oh,” Tim said, unsure of how to respond.

“If he’s shifted to human since he came back home, no one’s caught him,” Dick gave a half-shrug, the casual tone of his words at odds with the fierce concern in his eyes.

“Oh,” Tim repeated. Now he felt like an asshole. Jason wasn’t deliberately doing this to torment him, he was trying to feel safe – because he’d _died_ , because the Joker had killed him, because he’d come back and there was a stranger in his pack and wearing his suit and no wonder Jason was still shifted.

Maybe _Tim_ was the one who should leave. Maybe Tim was the one stopping Jason from healing. Tim regarded Jason nervously – he didn’t want to go back to that cold, empty house, but Jason wasn’t shifting back and Tim was tired of jumping at every shadow, of waking up from nightmares of fangs puncturing through bone with a _crunch_ , of feeling his bruises throb every time he caught sight of those green eyes.

Shifted. Now there was an idea.

* * *

Tim should’ve thought of this days ago.

Sure, the Manor’s ceilings were too low to soar properly, and Tim hadn’t gotten some good flying in quite some time, and while Dick was adept enough to use the Manor’s various pieces of furniture as perches, Tim preferred something he could grab onto if he was going to make a landing, _but_ –

Jason couldn’t fly.

He watched Tim – and Dick, because the older boy had given a shriek of joy when he saw Tim flying around before quickly shifting to join him – but he did it from the _floor_ , with those sharp teeth well out of range of Tim’s wings. Tim’s feathers shivered at the cold, tracking gaze – he was _not_ going to make the mistake of getting too close to claws and teeth – but he didn’t have to be afraid of Jason anymore.

Tim shifted back when he needed to, but spent the majority of time traveling between rooms in the air, marveling at the freedom. Bruce had even started to wear a shoulder pad around the Manor, which Dick said he’d used to do for him, back before Dick had been able to shift mid-air, do a flip, and land back on his feet.

The Manor almost felt like home again.

Tim winged into the library, suppressing an unhappy chirp – his muscles were sore, he had never spent so much time in hawk form before, and back when he’d been crossing Gotham at night, he’d done far more gliding than flying.

The wolf was curled up on a rug near the shelf, apparently napping – Tim turned away from the table he’d been aiming for, flapping his wings to gain a little altitude. He’d land on top of the bookshelves, that way he never had to touch the ground as he searched for the reference material he wanted.

Tim tilted to land talons-firsts, beating his wings to slow down as he neared the edge of the shelf – talons skittered on top of the shelf as he tried to hop to a stop, moving awkwardly –

One foot caught, the other didn’t, and Tim lost his balance entirely, screeching as he tumbled forward, wings buffeted by the shelves as he rolled – he tried to tuck in his wings to jerk to a stop – he was getting dizzy as the world spun around him –

Something in his stomach just _dropped_ and suddenly he was falling, the edge of the bookshelf too far away to catch, his wings beating frantic and futile, he wasn’t even facing the right way up –

Tim hit the ground with a distressed screech and the impact jolted through every bone in his body. Everything _hurt_ and he didn’t have enough air to breathe and his wings were still beating furiously against the ground and –

A low growl. Acid green eyes. Those _teeth_.

Tim flailed harder, caught in sudden, panicked terror, but that only made everything hurt more – from the eyes of the bird, the wolf was even bigger than it’d been before, towering over Tim, each fang long enough to tear Tim’s wings to shreds, to crunch every bone in his body with one absent swipe, to push _down_ with a paw until his ribcage cracked open and –

There was no point in fighting it. Tim choked on a broken trill, closed his eyes, and waited.

Something nudged the edge of one wing and he shivered, hunching deeper, ready for it all to end –

“Shh, baby bird,” a low voice said, fingers smoothing down the ruffled fletching on Tim’s front, “It’s okay.”

Tim made an unhappy noise, still trembling.

“I know it hurts,” the voice soothed, “But I need you to shift back, Tim. I can’t treat your injuries when you’re shifted.”

Tim huddled further, waiting for the soft, gentle fingers to turn cruel, to squeeze and rip and claw – he recognized Jason’s voice, and Jason was the wolf, and the wolf would hurt him, and all Tim could do was shudder and wait.

A finger brushed past the edge of his jaw, and instincts warred – danger, threat, one part whispered, _hide away, curl up_ , and pack, stronger, the other part hissed, _surrender, submit_. Terror curled around his limbs as he forcibly relaxed his wings, tilting his head so that Jason’s next stroke brushed his vulnerable neck.

The fingers stilled. Tim froze, locked into position with helpless dread. “Oh, baby bird,” Jason exhaled, “I need you to shift back.”

He couldn’t. He was frozen, he was stuck, the only part of his body that was moving was his chest as he took shallow gasps of air.

“Okay,” Jason said quietly, and then his voice dropped to something lower, “Tim, _shift back_.”

Tim shifted.

Pain slammed into him anew – the muscles in his back were strained, something twinged in his right ankle, his arms were bruised and sore and maybe broken, he couldn’t tell because Jason was _right in front of him_ , caging him against the bookshelf, green eyes burning bright, and Tim’s mind fluttered through all his available options before choosing the only one he had left.

Tim bared his neck and went limp, hoping it would be enough.

Jason sucked in a sharp breath. Tim couldn’t stop trembling as he squeezed his eyes shut, he could feel the teeth closing around his throat, powerful jaws poised to snap, the slow, steady drag of pressure into pain, the way his body just shut off under the instinct to submit, and tears were leaking out of his eyes and he couldn’t get them to stop –

A hand curled around the back of his knees, and another right below his shoulder blades, digging into sore muscles – Tim made a soft, pained sound, and the arm shifted higher, before both grips tightened and the world shifted around him.

“We’re going to the medbay in the Cave,” Jason murmured. Tim didn’t open his eyes – his neck was still unguarded, still vulnerable, and the world was twisting around him and he didn’t even want to try to grab any of the pieces to claw himself out of the haze. “I don’t think you broke anything, but we should make sure. And I think that’s where Bruce keeps the muscle relaxant, unless that’s changed.”

Tim made a soft, quiet keening sound – wounded pack calling for help – but Jason absently shushed him as they got to the clock. Of course – Alfred was out on errands, Dick wasn’t home, Bruce was at work. There was only one pack member close enough to hear him, and Tim was already in his grasp.

The Cave was silent and Tim could hear Jason’s heartbeat under his ear and dread was choking all his limbs. Despite it, despite the churning terror, Tim clawed up enough courage to open his mouth and try a few words.

“Please,” he said first, and Jason stilled. “Don’t –” _Say it_ , he needed to say it, needed to force the word out loud. “Don’t bite.”

He exhaled shakily, and started trembling again, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid seeing any hint of Jason’s reaction.

It would be child’s play for Jason to reach out and clamp down on Tim’s neck. It would take him a few more seconds to shift if he wanted to do it in wolf form. Tim could imagine how much it’d hurt – how much it would _burn_ if Jason did it to be cruel, made it slow and agonizing, suffering just to make a point –

Jason dropped him on the bed and then disappeared – Tim waited a beat before he squinted through blurry eyes to find out what had happened, was he a wolf again, what was he –

Jason was hovering at the far edge of the medbay, one hand clenching the door so tightly his knuckles were white. He wasn’t a wolf. Not yet anyway. Jason waited until Tim’s gaze met him before speaking, his tone level and forced, at odds with the paleness of his skin and the trembling in his fingers, “I’m not going to bite you.”

Tim stared at him.

Jason took a deep breath and continued, “I should never have bitten you. I’m sorry. I was angry and I took it out on you and I was wrong.”

Tim continued staring. Had he…hit his head when landing? Was this some weird dream? Dick had _said_ that Jason only felt comfortable in his wolf form, and here he was as a human, little more than a week after he’d come back home, and –

“I’ll leave,” Jason said, quieter, “Bruce said that you were fine with me here, but – but that’s clearly not the case. You’re scared of me. I’ll go.”

He turned, clearly intending to do just that, and horror slammed into Tim, warring with the fear already present – Jason couldn’t leave, couldn’t _go_ , not when Bruce and Dick had just gotten him back, not because of _Tim_ –

“No,” Tim gasped, slipping off the bed and nearly crumpling to his knees when his muscles fiercely protested the change in position, “No, Jason, you can’t _leave_ –”

But Jason was walking away, shoulders tight, and between one breath and the next, he was the wolf, and he was _leaving_ and it was all Tim’s fault and everyone would be upset and –

Tim curled up and made a keening call of distress, a desperate call for help, for safety, for protection. It had broken through Jason’s emotions the last time, cut through rage to clear his mind, and Tim whimpered again, opening his side of the pack bond and flooding it with his terror, with his frantic desire for pack –

Tim cut off as fur pressed against him, a low growl building deep. He kept his eyes shut as he slowly, carefully reached his hands out to bury them in fur, to press his face into the softness and let it vibrate with the gentle rumbling. The fur did a good job of concealing the tears, and Tim let it hide his trembling as well, curling closer to Jason like his grip would do anything to stop the wolf from leaving if he really wanted.

But Jason stayed, wrapped around Tim, and stayed when Dick burst into the Cave in panic and nearly sobbed in relief to see that no one was dead, and stayed when Bruce reached out a pale hand to run it through Tim’s hair before ruffling Jason’s fur.

Tim kept one hand in Jason’s fur, and his gaze firmly away from the wolf’s face, and exhaled slowly. He could do this. He was okay. This was his pack, and he was going to make sure they all stayed together.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Flock Together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29778558) by [sElkieNight60](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sElkieNight60/pseuds/sElkieNight60)




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